


A kiss...

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: Kisses... [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: ... lazily.





	A kiss...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> If this looks familiar to you, that's because it is. This used to be part of a multi-chapter pain-in-my ass, but I've decided to take that down and make every chapter a standalone oneshot. Apologies for any confusion caused.
> 
> Prompts are from [this list](https://wrathofscribbles.tumblr.com/post/177169224758/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a).

Insomnia comes alive with celebration, the entire populace spilling out of their homes to clog up the streets with the nationwide announcement of Niflheim’s surrender and subsequent release of all ravaged territories to a Lucian banner.  The same banner Prince Noctis and his entourage will fly in their travel between towns and cities to negotiate reparations and trade, independent councils to oversee the bulk of operations in the King’s stead.

Here, now, with music blasting and drink flowing and people mingling from all sectors, all walks of life, disregarding station, class, and heritage in favour of uniting their voices and cheering to the heavens, the city lives up to its name.  _This_  is the call for peace, the voice of a people coming out from under the burden of war, no more need to watch the skies for the day the Wall collapses, no more silent vigil held when the Glaive convoy returns from missions gone sour with injured and dead in their ranks, no more dreading the decree from up high that every able bodied person take up arms and _fight_.

They don’t know of the attempt on the King’s life, they don’t know of the poison and lies spread by a turncoat general, designed to tear apart the immigrant champions sent out to safeguard the city and her people at the cost of their own.  They don’t know of the rebellion in Noctis’s name, or his deal with one of the ancient gods lost to the sands of time, they don’t know of His Majesty’s bluff, a promise that any opposing army would meet double its match on Insomnian soil.  They don’t know of the last line of defense built on Lucis Caelum bones.  Nyx doesn’t begrudge them their ignorance, their joy, their _relief_.  He feels it, too, soothing on the soul like rain on the skin when summer storms roll in and wash away a fortnight’s heatwave.  For as long as he can remember there’s been war on the horizon, and now it’s not, written in enough ink and blood and death to last a thousand lifetimes.

_It’s over._

“Sir Ulric!  Sir Ulric!”  When did he become _sir_?  He tears his gaze away from the shimmer of the Wall in the distance - a well-founded caution given the ruthlessness of their former adversaries - to the people milling around down below and finds a group of children peering up at him, an assortment of drinks held high as though in offering.  “To your health and happiness, Sir Ulric!”

Not an offering at all but a _toast_ , to _him_ , before they scamper off with exasperated parents in hot pursuit.  Leaving Nyx to stare after them with a flapping jaw and mute disbelief, and _of course_  Cor would pick that moment to join him on his rooftop perch, amusement in the quirk of his mouth and the laughter in his voice.

“Soak it up, Nyx.  It’s back to business tomorrow.”

“ _Must_  you always be a party pooper?”

“Unlike _some people_ , I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Sure sure, keep dreaming buddy.”

* * *

“So,” Cor says sometime later, in that _Marshal_ tone of his that spells the end of the pleasant bubble they’ve settled into and Nyx barely manages to bite back a sigh.  Couldn’t even wait for the fireworks to be set off, huh?

“So,” he parrots, cutting him a glance from the corner of his eye, hoping Cor picks up on _the vibe,_ because he’s not ready to draw a curtain on the party yet.

“What are your plans after all this is a treaty in the archives?  You could go back home, if you wanted to, help get it back off the ground.”

“I could,” he pretends to mull it over, heels tapping against the building in time to the jaunty beats pulsing from one of the flats down the street, “maybe chip in with repairing the damage the Nifs have caused over the years.”

“Hm.”

He isn’t fooled by that practiced disinterest, has seen that blank mask directed at Drau - no, _Glauca_  - often enough to know it needs smacked right back off again.  _Better now than never_ , he thinks, and pitches to the side, shoulder catching on Cor’s arm first before there’s a subtle shift in posture that curls him into a solid chest instead and he knows if he laid a hand there, over the heart that’s never stopped beating since the day it started, as indestructible as the rest of him, it wouldn’t be swept aside like it’s some careless gesture.  Maybe fingers would even settle over his own, slot between them.

Or maybe he’s a goddamn hopeless romantic in need of a smack upside the head.

“I could introduce you to Ma, instead.”  There, that would do the trick.  A soft murmur lost to the antics of a city that never truly sleeps, tucked into a faded jacket just like a handkerchief, but all ragged and torn at the edges instead of crisp folds and immaculate corners.

Silence, at first.  Then fingers in his hair, tugging at his braids, winding them round and round until he feels the tug on his scalp and follows the unspoken command, tipping his head back at the same time Cor dips down and - they both laugh, quiet and   _genuine_ , when lips land on his nose instead, the angle too awkward to compensate for.

“I think I’d like that,” Cor says, as easy as that.

* * *

Nobody notices when they slip away from the celebrations, sharing beer and trading kisses as they go, tracing the familiar route back to Nyx’s apartment, unknown shadows for this night alone.


End file.
